Allison Louise

It's Spring time in the Okanagan - hopefully for keeps - so I pulled out my bike today and rode around town with my sister and nieces. 

It. 

Was. 

Perfect. 

And when I got home I made a HUGE kale salad and danced around the kitchen to this. I dare you to listen to that song and not dance. I would wager a guess that it is absolutely not possible to listen to that song and not tap a toe. 

Such a great day made me begin to think about other great days, and I was reminded of the time Andra and I decided to take a road trip around Vancouver Island. Our favorite place, by far, was Port Hardy.

I, personally, did not know much about Port Hardy, and by not much I mean that I knew absolutely nothing. We pulled up to our Campground and wandered into the office to check in and were met by the loveliest lady, let's call her June. June welcomed us to her campsite, and went on to explain the amenities of the campground adding that we should be careful as there had been a bear roaming around here and there. Wide eyed, Andra and I asked what we should do if we came face to face with said bear. She laughed and said, "Oh! Just talk to it like it's a dog!" 

June then went on to tell us that we could actually go bear watching (BEAR WATCHING?!!) at a bridge just a stones throw away. Baby cubs and a mama bear and all that! Totally normal evening activity in ol' Port Hardy. 

June then told us about this great local restaurant that we could walk to on this great trail next to the river, through the woods. 

Andra and I wondered at why anyone would walk through a forest when they knew that there were DEFINITELY bears nearby, but we decided to trust the locals and take the suggested trail. 

We did some speed walking, obviously, and eventually stumbled across the bear watching bridge. We cautiously walked over, grabbing one another by the arm, absolutely terrified of actually seeing a bear, and looked over the edge.

Nothing. Well, some fishermen, but otherwise nothing. 

"You just missed it!" The fisherman yelled out to us. "There was just a momma bear and her two cubs!" 

"Which direction did they go?" we asked, pseudo curious. 

"Oh, that way!" he yelled. 

He was pointing back towards where we came from, so we felt safe enough to continue walking away from the campsite - it felt like the only real option really. 

So we walked. And walked. And walked. 

Every whistle of wind, every branch breaking beneath our feet, every bird in the bushes, we were SURE was a bear. "Stop making noise!" we exclaimed to each other, "You're scaring me half to death!" 

Finally, we stumbled out of the forest and onto a path next to the river. This felt safer. No more trees to hide the bears, just wide open space. And the view! THE VIEW!

You could literally see the fish jumping! 

Families gathered on the shore trying to get a bite, even standing in the water with their nets trying to catch them in thin air, because, why not. Chances were that they were going to jump straight into your net anyway. 

We stopped only briefly to enjoy the view, but the sun was going down and we had to get to the restaurant ASAP. We walked as fast as our feet could carry us, feeling tempted to run at some points, and then there it was, in all it's glory, "Babes". 

"Do you think that's the place they were talking about?" I asked Andra. 

It was a little weather worn, a hotel right by the water with windows covering much of the surface facing the water. 

"Well, I guess?" answered Andra. 

We wandered into the carpeted space, up the steps and stumbled into a restaurant with a large bar, a wall full of alcohol, and about three people - tops. "Hi there!" the bartender greeted us happily, "take a seat anywhere you'd like!" 

We chose a table right near the windows where we could still make out the jumping fish, the fishing boats, the beautiful sunset. We enjoyed a delicious meal and took an obligatory selfie in the restaurant window. 

By the end of our evening out, we realized that walking back through the forest at night was not an option. "Are there taxis out here?" we asked the bartender. 

He laughed and said, "Well, yes, but I'll just take you! You're staying at the campsite right?" 

"Umm, yes." we responded cautiously. 

"Well no problem, let me just quickly tell my wife. Hey Marge!" he yelled into the kitchen, "just running out to drop these girls off, be back in a jif!" 

He was an older gentleman, early 60's I would guess, with a smile that reached all the way up to his eyes, and a demeanor that seemed trustworthy enough. We agreed, not really having many other options. Andra tried to reassure me as I suggested that we secretly text our families a final farewell. 

The bartender lead us outside, up to his truck, and unlocked the doors so that we could climb inside. As I climbed in, I noticed signage on his truck door advertising a carpentry business: a bartender, taxi driver, and carpenter? This guy was a jack of all trades!

We spoke of our trip as we drove back to the campsite and laughed as our bartender told us about the first time he heard about Port Hardy's bears. He told us how him and his wife were recent transplants to the little city, and that the first few months of their time in Port Hardy had been spent in the little campground Andra and I were staying at. He spoke of the way the rain would fall on the roof of his trailer those couple of months, and how loud those raindrops were, and how much Port Hardy felt like home. 

We arrived at our campsite, and tried to push some bills into our bartender's hand, but he shook his head "no". 

"It's not a problem girls! Have a great time in Port Hardy!" and he was gone.